


Composed of a Single Soul

by Minxie



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, SEQUEL TO: Souls in Growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-13
Updated: 2011-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tommy puts a plan into play, Adam goes predatory, and Sutan laughs – a lot. Also, there's a lake cabin, roses, and wine instead of hot chocolate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Composed of a Single Soul

**Author's Note:**

> **Prereaders:** _vlredrain_ , _aislinntlc_ , _thraceadams_ , and my little soldier boy, _Jace_  
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of _fiction_ using names and faces associated with actual trufax people. I do not know these people in any way, shape, or form outside of what they show the public. I just use them for my amusement. Cause I'm a freak like that. *smirk*  
>  **AN:** Written for _fairfax_verde_ , one of the high bidders in [my auction to aid in relief for Japan.](http://community.livejournal.com/help_japan/2978.html?thread=5980066#t5980066) She requested a future fic set in my Lambliff Big Bang 'verse, [Souls in Growth](http://the-minx-17.livejournal.com/145834.html#cutid1). Reading that first is recommended. Thank you, _fairfax_verde_ , for supporting a great cause! ♥

Tommy closes the door behind Adam and, hands clenching into tight fists, releases a frustrated sigh. He's horny, dammit. He has a boyfriend, a partner, a significant other, a whatever-the-fuck-the-latest-politically-correct-term is, and he is so fucking horny he's seeing stars.

Adam Lambert is a goddamn tease. Cranking Tommy up and then backing off, acting like a virgin girl on prom night. Insisting they take it slow, take their time. Not rush into anything. Because, you know, it isn't like they haven't just spent six months so deep in each other's space that privacy was a fucking joke. A joke that got old after the first week.

And, okay, if he's honest, Tommy will admit it was cool in the beginning. All of his fantasies were of him spread out on Adam's bed and taking it, and, in the very beginning, the idea of Adam's dick up his ass, while totally what he jacked-off to, always brought a spike of anxious _oh, my what_.

But now, six weeks into this thing that they're doing, now that pics of them, together, pics from Adam's birthday party and of them grabbing a sandwich at a side street deli, pics of them that scream that they're a couple, where everybody and their uncle just _knows_ that they are together and doing the dirty... Now Tommy is beyond finding Adam's 'take it slow' mantra charming.

He's in a relationship and he's so horny he's _desperate_. That little fact is supremely unfair.

* * *

"Tell him, baby." Sutan gives Tommy a look that is equal parts amusement and understanding. "Not like your skinny ass hasn't bitched Adam out before."

"Yeah, but, he's trying to be..." Tommy flails a hand around, searching for the right word.

"Nice? Or," Sutan drawls before Tommy can answer him, "is it that maybe he's scared? Cause we both know he fucked up before this even got going and maybe he's walking on eggshells now. You know him, Tommy Joe. Adam over thinks everything, reads shit into every little sigh, touch, and moan. Maybe he's waiting on you."

"What the fuck for? It's not like I know what the hell I'm doing."

Sutan gives Tommy a disbelieving look. "Um, you know, I saw those pictures of you and Jake. You didn't seem to be having any trouble figuring it out at all."

A blush steals over Tommy's cheeks and, frowning, he gives Sutan the finger. "Uncalled for. Seriously."

"I'm just sayin'." Canting his head to the side, Sutan asks, "Are _you_ scared?"

Tommy shakes his head. He is totally not scared. Not anymore. He was in the beginning, when impulsive behavior and Twitter collided. And the first time Adam asked him out. He was shit scared then. But not now. He knows they work together, that the friendship is still solid and the kisses are drugging. "Not scared," he mumbles, "so fucking frustrated I can't see where I'm going half the time."

Sutan laughs. Tips his head back and wraps an arm around his middle and fucking _laughs_. "Tell him, baby. Or, you know, seduce him into your bed. But do something before your pretty little head explodes from the pressure."

* * *

Tommy flips over on his bed and groans. He doesn't know how to seduce a man. And he sure as hell isn't asking Sutan. The man would be telling that story at parties for years.

If it was a chick, he'd know just what to do. Candlelight and fresh flowers, some bluesy shit low in the background. Moving slow and easy until the back of her knees hit the bed and she's begging for more. Yeah, Tommy can handle getting a chick into his bed.

But this isn't a chick. It isn't a random piece of ass. This is Adam.

And that pushes it into a whole new game. One where Tommy doesn't know the rules and his playbook is empty.

"Man up, Tommy Joe," he growls. "Just call the stupid fucker out on it. Tell him you want some dick, thanks so very much."

It sounds good. Just walking into Adam's new crib and demanding some sex. Except that if Sutan is right, and Sutan is rarely wrong, but if Sutan is right, Adam would take it completely the wrong way and then there would more of the whole _we need to talk_ shit that Tommy absolutely hates fucking doing.

He drags a pillow over his head and curses.

Looks like he needs a crash course in seducing a guy, in seducing Adam Lambert specifically.

* * *

Tommy shakes his head. He's beginning to think he should have braved the lion's den and called Brad. Because Anderson is so not fucking helping him. "Dude, really. I'm talking about Adam. Not some girl."

Arching a brow, Anderson glares at Tommy. "So, what? If you have a dick you can't like romance? What planet are you from? I mean, for real, Tommy Joe, I can _not_ believe that just came out of your mouth."

"So wine him and dine him?" Tommy snorts. "We've been doing that for weeks. And, hey, look at that, still nothing beyond a goodnight kiss."

"No, you haven't been," Anderson counters. " _He's_ been wining and dining you, playing the good little boyfriend you can take home and introduce to your mom. Have you turned the tables? Stepped up so he knows you want it as much as he does? Have _you_ asked Adam out? Planned a date, made it happen?"

Oh. Tommy didn't look at it from that perspective. He drops his head to the table. He's fucking this up so bad.

"I'll take that as a no then, shall I?" Anderson reaches over and scratches his fingers through Tommy's hair. "Perk up, TeeJay, it'll work out. It's just time for you to take the bull by the horns."

Tommy looks up and chuckles. "I can't believe you just said that."

Smirking, Anderson shrugs. "I don't know why not. The boy is hung enough like a bull for the comparison to work on every level."

"Bastard," Tommy says through a laugh. "You are such a bastard."

"Yeah, maybe. But I'm the bastard that's going to help you pull this off."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Then Anderson blows the moment with a wicked smirk. "So, you gonna take notes or what? I don't know how steep your learning curve is."

"Fuck off," Tommy grumbles automatically and then seriously thinks about asking for a pen and piece of paper.

In the end, notes are not needed. Because there is very little that Anderson suggests that hasn't been in the Tommy Joe Ratliff Playbook since Tommy learned that getting off was better done with a partner.

He still isn't sure it's the right way to go after Adam though.

* * *

"So, hey," Tommy nudges Adam's thigh with his foot. "Nice as hanging out here is, you up to a weekend trip somewhere? Just get in the car and drive until we find somewhere quiet and remote with no one else around?"

Adam's eyes widen and his lips curl into a full on smile. Tommy wants to smack himself upside the head. Anderson was right. He should have asked Adam out a long fucking time back.

"Really? Just us for an entire weekend?"

"I'd say longer but..." Tommy lets the words fade off.

"Yeah," Adam sighs, his mouth twisting from a smile to a grin and then to the beginnings of a frown. "Got too much going on to disappear for too long. But, really," and his smile comes back with even more wattage, "a weekend together would be nice. Really nice."

"That's what," Tommy stops and swallows around the cracking in his voice. "That's what I thought. That it'd be nice to just, you know..."

"Escape?"

"Well, yeah, long as we were escaping together." Tommy's pretty sure his ears are going to start sparking with the heat of his blush. Then Adam's eyes go dark and hungry and he thinks that yeah, maybe he won't die from embarrassment after all. Cause all of the blood pooling in his face is doing a mad dash rush to his dick.

At least dying from loss of blood due to an erection sounds more manly.

"So, um," Tommy stammers around the distraction of being hard and aching. "Thought we could haul ass out on Friday afternoon, I can pick you up at Leila's so no one spots us leaving your place, and then come back either late Sunday or early Monday?"

"Monday afternoon," Adam murmurs, wiggling around on the couch until he's on top of Tommy, pressing him down into the soft cushions with his weight. "Let's just shoot for Monday afternoon."

Then his lips cover Tommy's in a kiss and Adam rolls his hips down, and Tommy arches up, their bodies come together and push apart. And it's good. So fucking good. A deep rumbling groan or purr or something vibrates through Tommy and gets lost in the kiss, swallowed up by teeth and tongue, stolen and muted and then returned in Adam's low moan.

Quirking a grin when Adam breaks the kiss and pulls away, Tommy whispers, "Even better."

He is so gonna get laid. Finally.

* * *

Tommy wipes his hands on his jeans and then slowly pushes his way out of the rental car. A rental because his car is a piece of shit and Adam's is, well, Adam's. Way too recognizable by paps and fans alike and, goddammit, Tommy doesn't want to spend his weekend worried about a telephoto lens and how fast the internet will melt when the pics go viral.

"Tommy," Leila says, pulling him into a hug and straight into the house. "Adam is..."

"Right here," Adam says, cutting his mom off.

"You made sure the gas tank is full?" Leila asks, covering the quiet before it becomes noticeable. "And you do have a map, right? In case one of your random turns gets you lost."

"Mom! Honestly," Adam says before Tommy can answer, one hand scrubbing restlessly through his hair. "We just finished an international tour, I think we can handle a weekend road trip in LA."

Leila winks at Tommy and then, turning towards Adam, says, "You were in charge of navigation and driving on tour? That really is something, Ad. I remember how long it took for you to get from here to..."

"Mom!" He shouts again. "Please tell me you're ready, Tommy Joe, that you weren't planning on actually having dinner here or something."

Tommy chuckles a little. Something tells him that Adam has been driving Leila crazy. She usually doesn't go for the embarrassing stories unless she's had too much wine. After that, of course, all bets are off. "Yeah, got a cooler in the backseat full of bottled water and fruit and a couple of those wrap things you like. Figured we'd just eat on the road."

He laughs outright when Adam mutters a fast, "Thank fuck," then kisses Leila's cheek before retreating out of the house, his duffel bag in hand.

They're on I-10 heading east for a good fifteen minutes before Adam says, "So, you did pack a map, right?"

Between bouts of laughter, Tommy chokes out, "Got a full tank too."

He only laughs harder when Adam sticks his tongue out in reply.

* * *

It takes less than the predicted two hours to reach Big Bear. Probably because traffic, for once, was in Tommy's favor. The fact the he took the speed limit signs as a suggestion instead of a mandate didn't hurt. He starts feeling antsy again the closer they get to the cabin he rented.

Because, seriously, he's still not sure about the romance thing. And their cabin is supposed to have roses waiting on them. Roses and candlelight and Tommy is going to just fucking die if Adam laughs or does something else to prove that he should have punched Anderson in the jaw the minute _romance_ came out of his mouth.

Parking, he glances at Adam, he says, "I gotta run in and get the keys."

Adam looks around. "You rented us a cabin?"

"Yeah. It's on the lake and has a hot tub and... I mean, there's no room service and shit, but it is private." Tommy drags a hand over the back of his neck. "That's okay, right?"

"More than okay, Tommy," Adam tells him, looking around at the scenery again. "Way more than okay."

* * *

Hoisting the cooler from the back floorboard, Adam says, "You thought of everything, didn't you?"

"Huh?" Tommy grunts, dropping their duffel bags on the ground and slamming the trunk shut.

"There's more than a few wraps and water bottles in this cooler."

"Oh, well, yeah," and a blush blossoms over Tommy's face. "I didn't want to have spend time going grocery shopping. Hell, I don't even know where the store is around here."

"Mile or so back."

Tommy gives Adam a look. One that shouts just how unreal he thinks Adam is.

"What?" Adam's innocent look makes Tommy snort. "I learned to look for that kind of thing on tour. Never know when your bassist is going to be in need of a frozen burrito."

"Uh huh."

"Seriously," Adam replies with a grin.

The happy, relaxed look goes a long way to easing Tommy's worries. "Whatever, fucker. I know the truth about you and your midnight snack runs."

A clear ring of laughter breaks through the silence. "Come and open the door, this damn thing is getting heavy."

Tommy shoulders one of the bags and pushes the key – a real key, not one of those stupid credit card things – into the lock. Taking a deep breath, he turns the knob and, letting the door creak open, steps back. It'll be easier to run if Adam is in front of him.

The cabin, as promised, is clean and welcoming and doesn't seem anywhere near as gingerbread and candy hearts as Tommy had made it in his mind. He's in the middle of telling himself he's being ridiculous, that he's built this whole thing up into something that it just fucking isn't, when Adam stops short and whispers, "Oh."

"So, um..."

Adam sets the cooler down and, neck cracking as he looks quickly from the spray of roses to Tommy and then back to the burst of red flowers, says, "You did this?"

"Uh, yeah." He swallows against the crazy fast fluttering in his stomach. "Surprise?"

Leaving the cooler in the middle of the floor, Adam steps over to the counter and runs his fingertips along the edges of the roses. "You're a romantic."

"Uh, not really," Tommy replies, face scrunching up with distaste. "But I can _be_ romantic."

"There's a difference?" Adam asks, pulling a single rose from the vase and lifting it to his nose. "Really? What's the difference?"

"Huh?"

"The difference," Adam says as he slides the rose back into the vase. "Between being a romantic and knowing how to romance someone?"

Using his feet to move the cooler into the kitchen, Tommy shrugs. "I have to work at it, make plans, think about it. You know, it doesn't come naturally."

"So you put time into this date, huh?"

Tommy's pretty sure his face is about as dark red as the damn roses. "Uh, yeah."

"Because you wanted it to be romantic?"

"Maybe," Tommy mumbles, turning away from Adam and toeing the cooler open. He stops short when, while he's bent over the open cooler with water bottles in his hand, Adam presses a hand against his back, then slips his arms around Tommy's waist when he straightens into a stand.

"Thank you."

Tommy relaxes back against Adam, confident finally that the whole romance thing wasn't a big, fat mistake. "Welcome."

He waits two heartbeats, then another, then, grinning, says, "Hot tub?"

"Hell yeah."

* * *

"I was nervous about this." Adam sinks lower in the hot tub, stretching his legs out and scooting deeper into the seat until the water is bubbling high on his shoulders.

Tommy frowns. He can't picture Adam nervous about them spending time together. "Why?"

"What if I do something stupid or gross or weird?" Tipping back his glass of wine, he adds, "I mean, it'll be the first time we've spent the night together since all this started."

Tommy snorts. He's seen Adam at his worst, experienced the nasty that happens when Adam has too much liquor and insists on feeding his fucked up craving for boiled eggs. Tour does that. Gives you an intimate look at someone. Taylor got up to some shit that turns Tommy's stomach just to think about, and Sasha made him respect chicks in a whole new way. Adam falls in the middle somewhere, not as impressive as Sash but nowhere near as over-the-top frat boy as TayTay. "That's stupid. We lived together on a tour bus. Really. There's not much I haven't witnessed from you."

"I wasn't thinking about getting in your pants then."

Tommy arches a brow.

Laughing, Adam holds up a hand in surrender. "Okay, I was. I just didn't really think there was much of a chance."

"You gonna do more than _think_ about getting in my pants now?" Tommy asks, because, seriously, that is a very important question.

Every hint of teasing fades from Adam's face. Pushing himself back into a sitting position, he sets his wine glass on the decking and turns back to Tommy. "You ready for that, Tommy Joe?"

"Did you think I brought you here so we could just make out in a hot tub?"

Adam slides over the seats until he is sitting next to Tommy. "I'd be fine with that, you know?"

"Yeah, well," Tommy looks up at Adam through his lashes, "maybe I did this, planned and plotted so I could get into your pants. Maybe I want more. "

Eyes going dark, Adam pushes in closer to Tommy, taking over all of his personal space. Tommy shudders, goosebumps breaking over his arms. He's seen Adam in predator mode, laughed at the way people just buckle and mold themselves to him, but he's never appreciated it. Never understood how much of a force that Adam Lambert could be. He's not sure he truly understands it now, doesn't know if he should run to it or away from it.

He does, however, know that he definitely doesn't want it to go away, doesn't want Adam to stop looking at him that way.

Adam's voice is low and husky when he asks, " _Ready_ for more or just wanting it?"

Tommy swallows hard, then, hands clenching beneath the water's surface, says, "Yes."

If anything, Adam's eyes go more feral. And then his hands close around Tommy's wrist and he tugs, maneuvers Tommy until he is straddling Adam's lap, his knees pulling across the hard plastic seats and his ass dragging over Adam's thighs and hip bones, settling with the heavy length of their cocks pressed together, separated by two thin layers of wet swimming trunks. One hand curved along Tommy's hip, the other wrapping the back of Tommy's neck, Adam whispers, "Tommy."

"Oh, shit," Tommy hisses, greedy arousal spiraling down his spine in frantic bursts of _yes_ , _yes_ , _yes_.

Adam reels him in closer, his hand moving from Tommy's hip to his ass, fingertips dancing along his cleft, pushing the fabric of Tommy's suit in between his ass cheeks and scraping blunt over his hole.

"Tommy," Adam murmurs again, his voice low and raspy, his breath ghosting fast over Tommy's cheek.

Tommy drops his head to Adam's shoulder, his hips undulating in a slow, easy rhythm. A groan bubbles up and out and Tommy presses himself in tighter against Adam's chest. He's on the verge of begging, of demanding Adam do something, _anything_ , right the fuck now.

"Oh, yeah," Adam mouths along Tommy's jaw. "You really do want it."

Tommy's beyond answering, way past giving Adam a flippant _no shit_. Instead he latches his mouth onto Adam's neck, worrying the straining cords with teeth and tongue until Adam's grip on Tommy's ass goes tight enough to bruise and a big ass hickey blooms on Adam's skin in red and pink.

"Got the message, Tommy Joe," Adam grunts, pushing to a stand with Tommy in his arms and stepping them both out of the hot tub.

* * *

Tommy has no idea exactly how he, how they got from the hot tub to the king-sized bed at the top of the stairs, their bathing suits left in two wet heaps somewhere along the way. He has no clue and he really doesn't care. Because Adam is on top of him, pushing him into the mattress, and it's all skin on skin and _Jesus fucking Christ_ he's gonna blow hard and fast if Adam doesn't stop that whole rocking against him thing pretty damn soon.

"What do you want, Tommy Joe?" Adam rolls his hips, drags his cock over Tommy's with enough friction to be interesting, but too little to be fulfilling. "Want me to touch, to suck you?"

The sound that spills out of Tommy cannot be considered a word, damn sure isn't an answer to Adam's question. It's the best he can offer right now. With Adam kissing him and touching him, holding his head tight and licking into his mouth, teasing him with what is – what better be – coming.

Then Adam starts shimmying down the bed, uses a well-placed knee to force Tommy's thighs apart, then his body to spread them wider, biting and sucking marks all over Tommy's chest and his abdomen and, once he's stretched out between Tommy's legs and flat against the bed, Adam marks the crazy jut of Tommy's hipbone, the tender valley where thigh and groin meet. Tommy arches and trembles and begs with soft moans and sharps inhales of breath and a drawn out, "Adam."

"Come on, tell me or show me, just," Adam nudges along Tommy's dick with his nose, "I need you to give me something, baby."

Tommy shivers as Adam's words ripple over his thighs. Moving on instinct, Tommy reaches down and holds himself open, invites Adam to take it further, to fucking take _him_.

"Jesus. Fuck." Adam palms Tommy's ass, his fingers lacing with Tommy's and his thumbs pulling the cheeks further apart, exposing Tommy completely. Nipping Tommy's inner thigh, he growls, "Baby," and leans in, dragging his lips over Tommy's sac, then lower, swirling a pattern with his tongue over the taut skin of Tommy's perineum.

Shaking, Tommy draws his hands from beneath Adam's, marking his own skin with the scratch and pull of blunt nails. Then, before he can say or do or even breathe, Tommy twists his fingers in the sheets.

Because, _fucking holy fuck_ , Adam's tongue is in his ass. All slippery and wet, lapping around the edges of his hole and pushing in, wriggling and, straight the fuck out, fucking him.

Tommy's a sloppy mess. Covered in spit and precome and trying his damnedest to press into, get more of, the sandpaper buzz of Adam's midnight-thirty shadow. Swallowing, he rasps out, "More."

He gets more. Just not the more – fingers or dick – that he was asking for. He gets Adam sealing his lips over Tommy's hole and sucking, he gets the sting of Adam's teeth nibbling on the rim and then biting into the fleshy stretch of his ass. He gets a goddamn growl and Adam's fingers tight around his wrist when he reaches to take his cock in hand.

"Adam, _Christ_ , you gotta, I need to..." Tommy slaps a hand in the direction of Adam's head – and misses by a mile, his palm landing with a dull thud on the mattress. "Adam. _Please_."

Adam turns his head, moves his mouth from Tommy's hole to Tommy's thigh, biting and sucking up marks, bruising the skin with shades of purple. Then fingers, two of them shiny with lube, push into Tommy's ass.

"Ho, fuck," Tommy mumbles, cursing the position he's in, the fact that he cannot move at freaking all.

"Too much?"

Tommy shakes his head. Then says, "Hell, no, just..."

Then Adam spreads his fingers, pulling out and pushing back in, stretching Tommy's hole, fingers tripping over Tommy's insides and relaxing him into the feeling of being fucked. All Tommy can do is hiss, " _Fuck_..."

"Easy, baby," Adam murmurs, twisting his fingers and then taking them out completely, coming back in with more. "Just relax and take it. You know you want it."

"Want you," Tommy grunts, committing the burn of Adam's fingers to memory, storing it away to replay later.

"You got me," Adam says.

"In me," Tommy grinds out. "I want you in me."

Because Tommy wants to blow his load with Adam's dick buried in his ass. And he seriously doesn't know how much longer he can hold off.

"Tommy, are you..."

"Don't you fucking dare ask me that," Tommy snaps. "Do not."

Adam huffs a laugh and, reaching out and snagging a condom, says, "You are a pushy bottom, Tommy Joe."

"I'm gonna be a fucked out bottom if you don't hurry up."

"Roll over." Adam's voice is a jumbled mess of wrecked and desperate and needy. It's the hottest thing Tommy's heard in a while. "It'll be easier."

"Fuck no." Tommy squirms and opens his legs wider, slips his hands around his thighs when the pull on his muscles turns into an ache. "I wanna see you, yeah?"

Tommy watches indecision flit over Adam's face until, finally, Adam whispers, "Yeah," and "Okay."

And then Adam's got one hand on the back of Tommy's thigh and the other lining his dick up with Tommy's hole and he's pushing forward and then it's there. They're there.

Connected and on the same wavelength, moving together like they've done this a thousand times before, like they'll do it ten thousand more. And then Tommy looks up and processes the truth lurking in Adam's eyes.

Suddenly breathing becomes optional.

Because this is so not the sex Tommy expected. It's not about getting sweaty and having fun and chasing after personal release. It's not about that at all.

This is about them. About what they spent time building and then almost lost. What they've fought so fucking hard to get back to. It's their past and their future colliding into one moment, stripping away doubts and hurts and concerns, leaving behind the bare bones, the one thing they had before they even knew they wanted it.

Tommy knows exactly when the worry and confusion in his own eyes bleeds into acceptance and hope and a return of the feelings that Adam has obviously worked so hard to mute, to dampen down within him. He knows because Adam's whole face relaxes, his eyes brighten and what had been lurking in the shadows comes to the forefront, overwhelming Tommy in the sheer intensity.

His orgasm catches him unaware, rips through him without his consent, leaving him adrift in a sea of white-noise pleasure that blots out everything but the feel and smell and taste of Adam.

Then Adam grinds down, pushes his dick deeper into Tommy, and his hips stutter in a series of rapid jerks. He grunts and then moans, collapsing to his elbows and blanketing Tommy in sweat-soaked skin and hot, rapid-fire breaths.

They lay there panting harshly against each other, Adam's weight heavy and comforting, the only thing keeping Tommy tethered to reality. Then he has to know, has to be sure that he wasn't reading Adam wrong.

Tommy cups Adam's jaw, his thumb brushing slow over Adam's lips. "Yeah?"

"Truly, madly, deeply," Adam says.

Tommy catches the words on his thumb, testing and weighing them, absorbing them the same way he does the vibrations of his guitar strings.

Nodding, Tommy grins, "Me too."

* * ♥ * *

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Aristotle quote: _Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies._ Sorry about the wait, bb… hope it was worth it! ♥


End file.
